


Pirates and Ghosts

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: Sherlollicious [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson the stud, F/M, Flash Forward, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Kid Molly, Kid Sherlock, cheek kissing, they're six years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8576989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: During a particularly dull day at school, six year old Sherlock Holmes makes his very first friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago for my tumblr sideblog so that's my excuse for it being, err, a bit not good :D

Where most children his age craved the bell signalling break time, Sherlock Holmes was in his element in the classroom. He preferred the company of a good textbook and possessed a thirst for knowledge which made him quite unpopular with his classmates, ‘teacher’s pet’ being a favourite of their nicknames. As it was, his teachers disliked him just as much. All too often, Sherlock grew bored of the tedious tasks set before him by the ‘qualified professionals’ and sought out his own learning materials; they had given up attempting to persuade him otherwise.

Sherlock dodged and weaved through his frenzied peers towards his favourite bench at the bottom of the playground; it was shaded beneath a large tree and isolated him from the noise and aggression of their meaningless horseplay. He rolled his eyes and opened his book, keen to return to the chapter on fourteenth century pirates.

“Hello. Do you want to play with me?”

The curly-haired boy almost jumped out of skin at the sound of the soft voice somewhere behind him; he whirled around, looking up onto the low tree branch. A small girl was smiling down at him, casually swinging her legs back and forth. She wore her school cardigan around her waist, no doubt muddy from her adventurous climb, but it was her eyes that drew him in. Warm and brown, just like her lovely long hair. Sherlock snapped his mouth closed and looked around foolishly, convinced this tree angel was talking to someone else. Once he was sure they were alone, he turned back to her.

“I-I don’t play.”

“Me too,” the girl replied, expertly jumping down from the tree and skipping up to him. She tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear and grinned politely, “I’m Molly.”

“You must be new,” Sherlock replied, shaking his head as he looked back at his book, turning a page pointedly, “people don’t talk to me.”

The last thing he expected the girl to do was sit beside him eagerly, “what are you reading?”

“ _Pirates Through The Ages_ ,” he muttered, his cheeks growing pink; there wasn’t many people who knew about his fascination with the ancient high-sea criminals. He had a feeling that this one was different, she wouldn’t judge him.

Molly nodded, giggling a bit, “cool.”

Sherlock also nodded, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to stop talking to the sweet girl due to a lack of experience with any sort of social interaction. Thankfully, Molly didn’t seem to want to leave just yet.

“I was reading a book by my daddy. He is – _was_ – a criminal psychologist and he wrote his stories. We have loads of books like that at my house…” she smiled sadly, looking over at the playground, “I was reading his old cases but that girl over there took them,” Sherlock followed her gaze to a taller girl with wild curls, waving a bunch of papers and laughing manically, “my mummy has loads of them but they were the originals.”

“That’s just Sally, ignore her; she likes attention,” he scowled at Sally Donovan before glancing at the girl next to him, “how old are you, Molly?”

“Um, six in June. What about you?”

“Six last month. I like you,” he smiled genuinely, returning to his book shyly when he realised what he’d said, "you don’t annoy me. I’ve never met anyone else my age that can…well, read.”

"I like you, too,” Molly beamed, watching the boy fondly; she flitted her gaze to Sally with hatred and annoyance - she was waving her mother’s papers around teasingly and attempting to read them to her friends, struggling at the difficult words, “I’m really glad-“

Molly looked over to her new friend only to realise he’d left and was currently marching towards Sally Donovan, attempting to make himself look as big as possible. The shy girl couldn’t help but smile as she retreated to her comfortable tree branch.

* * *

“Sally.”

The curly haired girl turned to the commanding yet small voice behind her. Sherlock stood unblinking with his hands buried in his pockets as he stared up at her. Sally scoffed, folding her arms.

“Freak.”

“Give me those,” the equally curly haired boy nodded at the documents in Sally’s hands; she smiled deviously and loomed over the shorter boy.

“No. The new girl can get ‘em herself…or is she too _scared_?” She sneered, her friends around her giggling encouragingly; Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Hand them over or I’ll tell Anderson you fancy him,” Sherlock said with a firm shrug.

Sally’s eyes widened comically and she looked over at Philip Anderson, undoubtedly the most handsome student in their school. She all but threw the papers and Sherlock before storming off, insisting to her group that the little freak was lying. Sherlock smirked as he gathered the papers before eagerly trotting off to their spot. He stopped dead in his tracks, watching as Anderson leaned against Molly’s tree and smoothed his hair; his words were unintelligible from this distance but Sherlock didn’t need to be a detective to work out what he was saying. He turned around and headed towards his classroom, deciding to sit outside and thumb through Molly’s father’s documents himself. He refused to think about Anderson and Molly, how cute he’d find her, how charming she’d find him, how stupid it all was. It wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t he be as cool as Philip Anderson?

Several minutes later, just as he’d concluded that perhaps not everyone was an idiot, Sherlock retied the papers and looked up to find Molly looming over him, her eyebrow raised. He found her bright eyes and swallowed thickly.

“Um, I-I got these from Sally…for you,” Sherlock shuffled the papers and held them out for her, shyly avoiding her gaze. Molly gathered the documents and smiled equally shyly, suddenly very interested in her shoes when she heard an almost inaudible mutter, “I-I’m, um, Sherlock. I don’t think I said.”

“Thank you, Sherlock. That was nice of you.”

“You’re wel-”

The rest of his sentence died on his tongue as Molly swept down and kissed his cheek before sitting beside him to discuss her father’s theories, unaware that Sherlock was blushing furiously next to her.

* * *

At the end of the school day, Sherlock rolled his eyes at the excitable rabble around him and simply sat on the carpet waiting for the teachers to dismiss his class. He wondered what Molly was up to in the classroom opposite his but as his name was called, he decided he’d find out soon enough. Sherlock saw his mother waving frantically and blushed when she pulled him close to kiss his cheeks, even more so when he saw Molly watching.

“Mummy, please stop…that’s my girlfriend over there,” he gestured vaguely in Molly’s direction who was waving awkwardly at him, trying her hardest not to giggle at his overly affectionate mother. Mrs. Holmes raised her eyebrows, grinning widely and kissing her son even more.

“Aww, you have a girlfriend, sweetie?”

“I-I think so…she was nice to me…” Sherlock was almost completely red and he nervously returned Molly’s wave; he wasn’t quick enough to allow it to go unnoticed by his mother, though - she followed his gaze and squealed excitedly.

“Is that her? We should invite her to play.”

“NO! No, no…”

It was too late. Mrs. Holmes had approached Mrs. Hooper and was already deep in conversation by the time Sherlock caught up. He overheard, to his mortification, his mother discussing his difficulty making friends and expressing her joy he now had Molly’s company. He smiled softly at his new friend, developing an extreme fascination with the ground.

“Um, my Mummy wants to know if you want to come to our house…if you want to, of course…I have some things we could do…if you wanted…”

“Yeah, that sounds really fun,” Molly nodded enthusiastically and turned to her mother, tugging at her shirt, “Mummy? Can I go to Sherlock’s house tonight, pleeease?”

“Of course you can, my darling,” Mrs. Hooper replied distractedly, keen to talk more with Mrs. Holmes.

They walked towards their homes together until Mrs. Hooper needed to turn down a different street; she departed after a quick goodbye from Molly and the exchanging of numbers with Mrs. Holmes. On their walk, Sherlock and Molly had exhausted all conversations of disease, suspicious deaths and the human anatomy. However, instead of walking in an awkward silence like Sherlock expected, Molly turned to the boy and grinned playfully.

“I’ll race you!”

“I don't…” he began but Molly had already sped down the road, laughing and taunting as she went; Mrs. Holmes was beyond surprised when her young son rushed after the brunette without even so much as a push.

* * *

“You _didn’t_ win, Sherlock…”

“Yeah, I did! I touched the car first, you said that was the goal,” he protested, kicking off his shoes and throwing away his coat.

Mrs. Holmes was beaming widely; never had Sherlock argued with someone over winning a race, let alone inviting said friend back to their home. She clapped her hands and the children gazed up at her.

“Right, so…you and your girlfriend can go up and play now, Sherlock,” she bit back her smirk at her son’s mortified shuffling and glowing cheeks, “I’ll call when Molly’s mummy gets here.”

“Mummy!” Sherlock hissed in pure embarrassment but Molly nudged him and was hurrying upstairs to the young boy’s bedroom.

Before they disappeared, Mrs. Holmes just managed to call after them, “mind the noise. Mikey’s studying.”

Behind the door, Molly glanced around, unsurprised by how many books surrounded the room; she noticed he had categorised them by order of importance, ranging from spelling aides to anthologies and musical scores. She was in awe as she admired his various experiments, labelled accordingly so his parents knew which to ignore.

“I like your mummy,” Molly giggled, tapping the glass of his small fish tank and giggling when they bubbled, “why does she think I’m your girlfriend?”

“Oh, um…I don’t know,” he shrugged, the colour in his cheeks was back until he shook his head, “do you mind?”

“Nope,” she was too mesmerised by the two goldfish to see his incredibly large grin, “what are their names?”

“Einstein and Newton.”

“Of course they are.”

She stood up and smiled, shrugging off her own coat; blushing, Molly fiddled with her hands, unsure what to do with herself. It was different in someone else’s house. Sherlock gestured at his bed and the two perched themselves on the edge awkwardly attempting to find something to talk about.

“What do you want to be when you’re older, Molly?” He muttered shyly. Well, it was a start and was certainly preferable to sitting in silence - maybe he’d have something to go on…she wasn’t the easiest person to deduce. Molly seemed relieved for she tapped her chin in thought.

“Ummm…a doctor, I think…or a ghost, I don’t really know yet,” she shrugged and Sherlock’s eyes lit up in fascination; there was more to her than met the eye.

“Cool.”

“Yeah,” she glanced at him and realised it would be rude if she didn’t ask, too; the last thing she wanted to do was ruin this blossoming friendship, “what about you?”

“A pirate. No question,” his reply was almost instantaneous. Molly could tell he’d been desperate to share and open up so he could have _someone_ to play with. She nodded, impressed and pushed her long hair behind her ears.

“Wow, that sounds like fun,” she replied and Sherlock nodded vigorously; this friendship may not be so bad after all.

* * *

“Hello, darling,” Mr. Holmes yawned as he tenderly kissed his wife’s forehead, a beaker of clear liquid balanced in his hands, “where’s Sherlock? I managed to get hold of some acid for him.”

He raised the beaker pointedly as he slipped the heavy bag from his shoulders and ruffled his curly hair with his free hand; he frowned when he noticed his wife’s blue eyes glint majestically and the slyest grin he had ever seen spread across her face.

“He’s upstairs…on a playdate.”

She nodded knowingly, folding her arms; her husband blinked momentarily and placed the beaker of acid on the table before chuckling madly and collapsing next to his wife on the sofa, almost tripping over their red setter, Redbeard, as he did.

“Alright, darling, very funny. Where is he really?”

Mrs. Holmes raised her eyebrows, her grin still present, “upstairs. On a playdate. With a girl.”

Barely a moment later, Mr. Holmes had jumped to his feet and was rushing towards the door leading upstairs. Mrs. Holmes frowned after him.

“Where are you going, dear?”

“I need to see this for myself,” came his exasperated reply and she rolled her eyes, picking up her discarded magazine.

“Don’t embarrass him, dear, leave them be.”

The words had hardly left her mouth before she heard her husband chuckle delightedly and her son’s horrified squeak of 'Daddy!’ When he returned to her side, he was grinning broadly.

“I like her… _one day_ she’s known him,” he shook his head in disbelief and Mrs. Holmes nodded enthusiastically; another hour had passed when Mycroft grumpily trudged into the living room, scowling at his parents.

“Mummy, could you _please_ tell Sherlock and that girl to keep it down? I’m trying to study,” he whined, folding his arms pointedly; Mrs. Holmes rolled her eyes and dropped her magazine.

“Studying what? You’re thirteen, for goodness sake…and leave your brother alone. He’s playing with a friend,” she giggled to herself and Mycroft huffed – **teenagers and their hormones** – muttering as he left.

“Who’s ever heard of a game called 'pirates and ghosts’, anyway.”

* * *

Mrs. Holmes and Mrs. Hooper exchanged sly smiles when Molly darted forwards to kiss Sherlock’s cheek before they left, both winking when they saw Sherlock touch his burning cheek and grinning at his new friend.

The proud parents listened to countless stories of pirates and ghosts, spent hours talking about their respective other and weekends spent sleeping over each other’s homes. It wasn’t long before the parents realised their children were falling in love.

Mrs. Holmes would listen to the tale of how her son had plucked up the courage to share his first proper kiss with his childhood friend on a country walk after school one day; Mrs. Hooper would chuckle as her teenaged daughter span around the room in giddy delight after the events of her country walk.

They would squeal down the phone at each other after discovering Sherlock had dropped to one knee after Molly earned her medical license at the age of nineteen.

They would both sob and hold each other as they watched Molly walk down the aisle, clutching her flowers; Mrs. Holmes would tear up again at the look of pure love in her son’s expression as he lifted the veil to reveal his childhood sweetheart, only now he had another best friend with him in the shape of the kindly army doctor, John Watson, introduced to each other by her son’s fiancée.

Mrs. Hooper would gently caress her daughter’s shoulder before accepting the small nest of blankets from her son-in-law, allowing a stray tear to stain her baby granddaughter’s sleeping face. She would then promptly bicker with Mrs. Holmes about when it was her turn next.

Whilst in that Hospital room, Sherlock bent low to whisper in his wife’s ear, gently holding her sore body close to him.

“Thank you for playing with me, Molly Holmes,” she would then smile her widest smile before settling into the most peaceful sleep of her entire life, a lazy reply falling from her lips before succumbing.

“I’m so glad I did.”


End file.
